


hanging by a moment here with you (Collected Wentworth Drabbles)

by astano



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:05:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astano/pseuds/astano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of Franky/Erica drabbles originally posted on Tumblr. Posted in one place here for convenience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Franky/Erica - Rated R - Precursor to breathplay

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally just a single drabble, but as I foresee writing a fair few of them, I've decided to make this my dumping ground.

They don’t see each other for days afterwards, but Erica can’t stop her mind from replaying every millisecond of the kiss over and over again, until she thinks she might actually be able to feel Franky’s lips on hers, Franky’s body pressed against her own, and the tightness of Franky’s hands fisting her hair, only to slide down to her throat.

She wonders if Franky knows it was the insistent press of her fingers against Erica’s throat that stopped her struggling. She didn’t even know herself until it happened. The restriction of her airway was only slight, but the promise of more—she couldn’t stop the way her body responded, couldn’t stop the rush of heat that spread through her, the way she had just given in to Franky’s kiss.

So, she thinks and she wonders and she presses her own fingers where Franky’s were, slides her other hand down to where she’s slick and wanting and fucks herself hard, drags herself to the edge and then stops, just as she imagines Franky would, until her hips are arching of the bed and she’s sobbing Franky’s name, begging for release.

~

She swears it won’t happen again. It  _can’t_  happen again. Not the kissing, not the touching herself, not any of it.

~

Franky’s back in her office four days later. Erica’s just about to call for Vera to come escort her back when Franky stands. Erica’s eyes follow as she moves over to the corner—the same corner as before—and she can’t help the way her heart starts racing at just the  _thought_  of what might happen next.

"Come here," Franky says, and the low, demanding tone of her voice shouldn’t make Erica wet, but it  _does_ , and she’s halfway out of her chair before she even realises what she’s doing.

"Franky." She  _promised_  herself, and she’s not going over there.

"I’m going to kiss you again," Franky says. “Come here."

The truth is, she’s been  _aching_  for this for days, and she’s moving across the room before she has time to stop herself again.

~

Franky spins them around until Erica’s pressed against the wall, much like the last time. All she can hear is the ragged sound of her own breathing as Franky presses against her, lips a tantalising few millimetres away. She wants to close the distance, but she  _can’t_. Franky smirks, and the hand resting lightly on her shoulder trails upwards.

There’s not even any pressure behind the touch this time, just Franky’s fingers stroking softly over her throat, but Erica sucks in a breath and doesn’t release it until she’s shaking, Franky’s name coming out unbidden on the exhale.

"You liked that," Franky says. “Last time, I mean.”

Erica barely has time to nod before Franky presses just a little harder, enough so Erica can now feel the solid presence of fingers and thumb. Her knees want to buckle, and she’s not sure how much longer she can take any of this, this  _nothing_ , but it’s almost like Franky knows, because in the next second she’s pressing forward, kissing Erica hard.

It’s everything Erica remembers from before, and she can’t help the way she whimpers against Franky’s lips. Can’t help when Franky slides a thigh between her own, parting her legs wider, sinking down against it.

Franky presses up with her thigh at the same time she presses down with her fingers, and Erica breaks the kiss, choking out a moan.

“Please,” she breathes. “Franky.”

“Not yet,” Franky says, stepping away and leaving Erica breathless and wanting, sagging against the wall. “Not here.”

~

Franky leaves, and Erica sends her secretary on an errand she doesn’t really need doing. She’s got ten minutes at best, but it takes less than half that time for her to come, only barely managing to stop from gasping Franky’s name.

The knowledge that there will be a time and a place shouldn’t leave her filled with so much anticipation, but there’s no denying it does.


	2. Franky/Erica - Rated NC-17 - Franky's in the slot again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from unresolvedmess.

She doesn’t know why she’s there. All she knows is that she was watching Franky on the security cameras again then before she had time to even think about it, she was walking determinedly through the prison corridors towards where Franky was, once again, in the slot.

Franky looks up as she unlocks the door, her mouth quickly stretching to a grin. “Erica," she says in greeting.

It’s second nature by now that the “Miss Davidson" comes out immediately. She doesn’t know why she still bothers; Franky’s never going to quit, and if she’s completely honest with herself, she likes the way her name sounds when Franky says it.

The trouble is, she doesn’t have anything else actually planned to say; no reason for being there, except for the subconscious desire to be near to Franky, and the three weeks she’s spent in the slot is the longest they’ve gone since the last time she was here, since before… well, since before everything.

"I just came to see if…" she stumbles for words and Franky smirks at her. Franky knows. Of course she does.

Quickly dropping the pretence, she follows up with, “I missed you," and the genuine pleasure on Franky’s face makes her chest tighten painfully for a second. It shouldn’t mean so much, that she can make Franky happy with three simple words. It would be so much easier if it didn’t, if this was just lust, something she could work out of her system and be done with. 

She walks further into the cell, coming to a stop by the top corner. The security cameras have blind spots, and she’s spent enough time observing Franky through them that she knows every one. Franky gets up lazily from the bed, almost swaggers across the few feet that separate them, and Erica can’t help but roll her eyes, although at least half of it is at herself for still thinking Franky’s attractive, even when she’s behaving like this.

Franky kisses her, softly at first, but it’s been too long, and they’ve never been much good at soft anyhow, that it quickly turns hard, demanding. Franky nips at Erica’s bottom lip, soothes it a second later with the swipe of her tongue, and Erica whimpers, already feeling lightheaded, in need of more—and it’s always more, always harder, faster, like she can’t ever get enough.

"Can we—" Franky starts to say, but then her mouth drops to Erica’s neck, sucking harshly at the point she’s found makes Erica’s knees give out.

"You’re the only one down here," Erica gasps, finding the words difficult to manage around the way her head’s spinning and the growing ache between her thighs. “I told Williams to take a break when I came through."

Franky’s hands find the hem of her skirt almost before she’s got the words out, and Erica helps her push it up, holds it at her waist while Franky drops to her knees, presses a teasing kiss above the band of Erica’s underwear before easing them down.

One of Erica’s hands goes automatically to the back of Franky’s head, stroking through her hair for a second before the waiting becomes to much and she presses slightly, fingertips digging into Franky’s skull as she tries to urge her forward.

Franky grins. “I don’t think so," she says, reaching out and gripping Erica’s wrist, forcing her hand back against the wall and holding it there. Erica groans low in her throat, dropping her head back against the wall. She looks down at Franky through lowered lashes, keeping eye contact as Franky places one kiss, then two, then three against the insides of her thighs.

She wants to tell Franky they don’t have time for teasing, it’s not safe, but she can’t seem to get anything out other than a desperate sounding, “Please." It’s enough, though, because Franky tilts her head slightly, presses one more kiss to Erica’s thigh, then licks a broad stroke through her wetness. Erica hisses at the contact, writhing against Franky’s tongue, and Franky grips her hips, thumbs pressing hard against the bone as she tries to hold Erica in place.

It’s going to be fast, Erica knows that much—how can it not when she’s been thinking about this every day Franky’s been down here? Franky’s lips close over her clit, tongue rubbing against it in a way that has Erica’s legs trembling, her hand opening and closing uselessly against the smooth wall behind her.

"Franky," she whines. “Oh—Oh, God."

Franky’s hands hold her more firmly, supporting her weight as she shudders helplessly, so close. She forces her eyes open, looks down to see Franky still looking up at her, and she just shatters.

~

It takes longer than it ever has for Erica to feel like she can walk back out of the cell without announcing to the world what she’s been doing.

Franky gives her a lazy, satisfied grin when she turns at the door to say goodbye.

She thinks the words she doesn’t dare say and locks the cell behind her.


	3. Franky/Erica - Rated PG-13 - Meeting in a bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompt on tumblr.

At first Erica’s not even sure it’s her; the place is dimly lit, and Erica’s all the way on the other side of the room, stood by the bar waiting for her drinks, so it’s difficult to get a good look. It’s just… despite the haircut—still the same length, but a little neater around the edges—and despite the suit—perfectly tailored and even from behind, Erica knows it looks jaw-droppingly good—there’s just something about how the woman holds herself. It’s the flash of a smile when the woman’s head turns slightly and she leans towards her companion that has Erica’s mind made up.

They’ve not seen each other in six years. Erica left Wentworth shortly after she married Mark and tried her best to forget the place (Franky) even existed. It didn’t work, and neither did her marriage. 

Unsure what to do, Erica hesitates for just a little too long after the bartender hands her her drinks. The look of surprise on Franky’s face when she turns and catches Erica staring quickly morphs into something else—something a lot like hurt, and Erica’s not at all prepared for how it feels to have that look directed at her again, and after so much time.

She feels ashamed, something she’s not used to feeling—at least not in this context. She never meant to hurt Franky, there was just no way she could put herself in the same room as her day after day and not give in again to her desires—her  _feelings_ , which were almost worse. But however she might have felt about the things Franky did to her, there was no excuse for leaving the way she did. She justified her actions by reminding herself that Franky was just a prisoner, that she didn’t owe her anything, but that was never true, and she wonders now how Franky felt when one day she was there and the next she wasn’t.

She wants to go over to Franky, say something, anything, but there’s nothing she thinks she can say.

~

Her friend accepts the drink Erica places in front of her with a smile, and Erica puts her own down opposite before gesturing in the direction of the ladies room. 

“I won’t be long,” she says.

~

The tepid water she splashes on her face does nothing to clear her head. She hadn’t expected it to, but she’d needed a few minutes alone.

The sound of the door opening startles her seconds later, and Erica turns, already knowing who’s there.

“Franky,” she says. Her eyes sweep over Franky, and she’s not sure if the way she’s finding it difficult to breathe is due to how amazing Franky looks, or that other, more dangerous thing—the thing that sent her running straight into a marriage that was doomed from the start. But that was then, then when there were rules she was breaking, just by letting Franky kiss her, when there were bars between them, when giving in could mean losing everything.

When Franky doesn’t seem like she’s going to say anything, Erica continues. “You look well,” she says.

Franky smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Being a qualified lawyer looks good on me don’t you think? You should see me in court. I’m amazing.”

Erica doesn’t doubt that for a second, and she smiles faintly, about to say as much, but before she can get the words out, Franky’s stepping closer, and even though there’s still a good few feet between them, Erica stills, all words drying up in her throat. She wonders (hopes) if Franky’s going to reach out to her. She still remembers vividly the feel of Franky’s hand closing around her arm, pulling her into the corner of her office. She remembers the other hand, Franky’s lips, Franky’s body against her own, and the rush of heat spreading through her is familiar, if not exactly comforting.

But Franky doesn’t come closer, doesn’t reach out. Instead, she holds Erica’s gaze, says, “I hated you for leaving.”

“I didn’t—I couldn’t—” Erica stutters out the words, but there are no excuses, and finally, she draws in a breath and settles on, “I’m sorry.”

“I hated you, but that didn’t stop me from thinking about you—missing you—every day.”

“Franky, I—”

Franky shakes her head, cutting Erica off. “I’m meeting with a client,” she says. “I should probably just go back out there and forget I ever saw you.” Despite knowing Franky’s almost certainly right, Erica’s whole body stiffens at the thought, but then Franky continues, “Or I could give you my number. We could talk.”

~

It takes her over a week to call.

Franky’s voice is all business when she picks up the phone. The way she says, “Francesca Doyle speaking,” sounds so unlike the Franky she remembers that Erica hesitates for a second before she answers.

Finally, she says, “It’s Erica.”

“Oh,” Franky replies. “What took you so long?”

And Erica really doesn’t know.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You Can Dim the Lights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/888292) by [supermatique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/supermatique/pseuds/supermatique)




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